


Piece by Piece

by Aqualisier



Series: Cause and Effect [4]
Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor
Genre: Angst, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 09:43:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16115837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aqualisier/pseuds/Aqualisier
Summary: People always put Naoya up on an unreachable pedestal--including Naoya himself, at times. Kazuya spent his childhood figuring out how to reach it.





	Piece by Piece

**Author's Note:**

> part 2 of "fics frankensteined from many old drafts," I might just make a separate work for smaller ficlets I can't fit anywhere else if anyone's interested. thank you to my bff mima for letting me borrow her horny OC who really wants to fuck her fandom's version of Cain.

Naoya’s reputation as a once-in-a-lifetime prodigy meant that Kazuya was often identified by others as “Naoya’s cousin,” and very rarely the reverse.

It wasn’t really something that bothered him, though. Not because he counted himself among those who thought so impossibly high of him, or anything. It was just, well... Naoya was all he had ever known. What few memories he had of his life before him were hazy, insignificant. Like being carried by his mother through a sweet-smelling boutique filled with unfamiliar shapes and sounds, or being scolded by his father for trying to stuff slices of bread into the VCR. The only reason he even knew those memories were before Naoya was because his parents had told him so, years later.

But he did remember the first time he met Naoya. He remembered being confused, nervous—but most of all, curious. Even as a young child Kazuya was always fond of puzzles, and Naoya was a puzzle that grabbed his attention from day one and never let it go. Even back then he could tell there was something strange about his cousin, though it would be a long time before he could put it into words. (Longer still before he learned what it was.)

The adults always seemed interested in Naoya, too, but for entirely different reasons. Interested in his grades and test scores, or how high he'd placed in some national contest or another. Or how many languages he could speak fluently, at only thirteen! Why, he was well on his way to becoming one of the greatest programming minds the world had ever known. He had a sharp tongue, and no reservations towards challenging authority, but that could be ignored. Lesser talents were excused for worse flaws all the time.

What they didn't know, which only Kazuya was close enough to notice, was that he'd only entered any of those contests because those same adults had pressured him to. That when caught in a daze he spoke in a language unlike any Kazuya had ever heard, then pretended like nothing happened. That he regularly had nightmares, but was always tight-lipped about what was causing them. That on Kazuya's tenth birthday, he'd programmed him his very own video game and brushed it off like it was nothing. None of them cared how quick he had been, after the deaths of his parents, to treat Kazuya as a younger brother, no strings attached.

(There were, actually, many strings attached to that--ancient strings made of blood wound tighter around both of them than Kazuya could have ever imagined. But he wouldn't learn anything of this for quite some time.)

Maybe that's why he never cared much how highly they regarded Naoya, or never felt that he was in his shadow, that he had to surpass him. Because those who only cared for what his cousin could offer them, only cared for the unreachable pedestal they placed him on, didn't seem to realize, or maybe didn’t seem to care, that beneath that rigid, untouchable exterior was a person. Naoya seemed to prefer it that way, actually.

But Kazuya didn't.

And so he spent his entire childhood figuring out how to put together the pieces of the puzzle that was Naoya Minegishi.

"What got you so interested in programming in the first place, anyway?" he asked one day, lazily licking at an ice pop while Naoya worked on some project or another. There were many things Naoya was good at--some of which were quite a surprise to learn, such as cooking, sewing, painting. There were far fewer things he actually _enjoyed_.

"Why computers, you ask?" Naoya shot him a glance over his shoulder, and seemed to carefully consider his answer. "How do I put it in a way you'll understand... Computer science is a rapidly growing field, one with much potential to shape humanity's future. And because it's expanding so quickly, it will take a long time for it to become stale. Besides, it's... refreshing, to work with something created wholly by man rather than God, for a change."

That last bit caught Kazuya's attention. "Huh? God?" he asked. "Since when were you religious?"

Naoya laughed under his breath. "I'm not," he said. "A word of advice, Kazuya. Don't trust anybody who demands unconditional respect from those beneath them, divine or otherwise."

Naoya had always been so logical and scientific, for as long as Kazuya had known him. It was a bit surprising to learn that he believed in God at all, or was at least willing to entertain the notion. Nobody else in their family was religious at all.

Those who believed in a higher power tended to be optimists, right? Naoya certainly wasn't.

\---

Kazuya was sorting through the mail. Advertisements, bills, spam, and--oh, what did we have here? He picked up a small, perfumed envelope from the pile.

_To: Naoya Minegishi_  
_From: Yuriko Ohara_

Holy shit. Did Naoya have a girlfriend?

Naoya was eighteen, so he guessed it made sense. Certainly he was eligible enough, objectively speaking of course, but apart from a few online contacts and clients he didn't even seem to have _friends_ , really. Somehow the thought of him with a girlfriend seemed so... weird. It annoyed him a little, too, that he hadn’t told him about her at all.

It was rude to read other people's mail, but... oh, _hell_. He _had_ to. He ripped open the envelope.

_Nao-chan,_

_I have quite the bone to pick with you after what you said in history class. After all, I love a man who can use his mouth and his brain at the same time, but you sure take the cake. If you want to settle this, why not come over to my place after class? ❤_

_Yuriko_

Oh. Um. Well.

That certainly was... something.

Kazuya's face turned a darker shade of red with every word. Being eleven, he only understood about half of those innuendos, but he knew enough about the birds and bees to know _exactly_ what this Yuriko Ohara was implying.

First of all, who the hell was this chick? He couldn’t help but dislike her instinctively.

Second of all, were she and Naoya an item? Did that mean Naoya had had sex before? Now that was weird to imagine. To put it lightly, he didn’t seem the type.

Third of all... if he was so embarrassed just reading this, he couldn't wait to see the look on Naoya's face when he _found out_ he’d read it. Cracks in his cousin’s cold, aloof exterior were hard to find, but when Kazuya did manage to squeeze out an interesting reaction, it was so, so satisfying.

He returned inside carrying the stack of mail, Yuriko’s letter tucked away safely in his pocket. He handed some bills to his father, a women's health magazine to his mother, and went to finish up the rest of the day's chores. Then, he returned to his room, and waited.

Naoya returned home later that evening, and as usual headed straight to his computer. Kazuya waited a few minutes, so as to seem inconspicuous, before knocking on the door. He fought back the smirk that threatened to creep onto his features.

“It’s open,” said Naoya. “What do you want?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” said Kazuya, trying to keep from sounding too coy. “I just had to grab the mail earlier. There was a letter to you. From a girl.”

Disappointingly, Naoya seemed unperturbed by this. “Nothing urgent, I hope.”

“Not really,” Kazuya said. “Something about having a bone to pick with you. And you being good at using your brain and your mouth at the same time.”

Naoya snorted. “Coming from you, that just sounds wrong. That letter, though... it wouldn’t happen to be from a Yuriko Ohara by any chance, would it?” When Kazuya nodded, he groaned. “That woman doesn’t know how to take no for an answer. Leave it on my desk so I can use it as evidence for a sexual harassment complaint, if it continues.”

Okay, that was _really_ disappointing. But... “What’s the story between you two?”

“Nothing as scandalous as you probably hope,” he said. “She’s an upperclassman who was one of my lab partners last term, and she spent more time trying to woo me than doing the coursework. Apparently she’s just gotten more determined over time.” He cast a glance at Kazuya. “That aside, why were you reading my mail? That’s a criminal offense, you know.”

He didn’t know that, actually. You learned something new every day. “S-Sorry,” he mumbled. “I won’t do it again. I was just a little surprised... thinking that you might have a girlfriend.”

Naoya barked out a laugh. “Don’t worry, it’s completely one-sided. Why are you so interested, though? ...Don’t tell me it’s because you’re _jealous,_ or some nonsense.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered. “But, um... why haven’t you taken her up on the offer? People your age usually start having relationships, right?”

“I don’t care for her. It’s nothing more complicated than that.”

“Are you a virgin?”

Again, he was disappointed to find that the question didn’t fluster Naoya, or even catch him off-guard. “The concept of virginity is meaningless. It's a harmful social construct that punishes men for lacking sexual agency in the same breath that it punishes women for having it.”

That went straight over Kazuya’s head. “Cool story. So, are you?”

Naoya seemed to give some serious thought to his answer. Wasn’t it just a straightforward yes or no? He sighed. “I suppose it’s only natural that you’d be curious about these things, at your age,” he said. “If you mean whether this body has any sexual history, then yes. But if you mean whether _I_ have any sexual history, then no, I’m not.”

...Well, that was anything but straightforward. “...Uh. What?”

Naoya chuckled. “You’ll understand when you’re older,” he said, and leaned back in his chair. “The important thing is, you can come to me with any questions you may have. About what’s normal, and what isn’t. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Somehow, Kazuya felt like he’d rather die than have _Naoya_ of all people give him The Talk. Sure, they were family, but _still_. He blushed. Man, that backfired. But what did Naoya mean by that? Probably just that he played some weird H games or engaged in erotic roleplays online or something. It was easier to imagine than Naoya actually being with a woman.

...That thought only sparked another question.

“Naoya, are you gay?”

Disappointingly, this didn’t seem to perturb him either. He rubbed his temple. “You _really_ have a lot to learn.”

So teasing him about a love letter, or asking him if he was gay or a virgin had no effect, but asking him why he hated plants sent him into gales of laughter. Not interesting in the way he’d hoped, but...

“You’re weird,” Kazuya said finally.

Naoya smirked lightly, and turned away from him, back to his computer. “I’m well aware, Kazuya. I’m well aware.”

Kazuya wondered, for what was far from the first or last time, if he would ever figure him out.

—-

Two days before his final university project was due, Naoya was hit with a nasty flu that left him barely able to stand, at a time when Kazuya's parents were out of town and couldn't offer him any support.

In all honesty, Kazuya wasn't surprised; Naoya's lifestyle was far from healthy, what with his odd sleep schedule and diet that consisted of increasingly fewer nutritious full meals. Not to mention that he rarely even left the house aside from classes. It was only a matter of time before it caught up with him. Still, he said he'd pull through just fine; Kazuya didn't have to worry about him.

He questioned that later, when he tried to do some studying himself and found his thoughts interrupted by a violent coughing fit from the other room.

The sight that awaited Kazuya was more or less what he expected. Naoya sat at his kotatsu, several windows of Java open and wastebasket filled to the brim with used tissues. His posture was worse than usual, if possible, and he sat in front of his laptop screen face flushed and eyes glassy. It looked like he was expending a herculean effort in the simple task of not keeling over, and when he tried to get back to typing it was shaky and uncoordinated.

"You look _terrible_ ," Kazuya said, more matter-of-fact than sympathetic.

Truth be told, it was somewhat of a strange sight. It wasn’t the first time he'd seen Naoya ill, but he had a good way of hiding it and pulling himself together regardless of his body's physical condition, like he didn't care about it beyond the most basic of maintenance. Kazuya, who confined himself to bed whenever he had so much as a cold, sort of envied his fortitude, but was perfectly content to make the most of his sick days and eat chicken soup while snuggled up in bed. He wasn't sure what Naoya was trying to prove by making perfect attendance despite coming down with strep throat, but it seemed to work for him, so Kazuya never pressed the issue.

This, though. The contrast was so stark to how impenetrable he always seemed that it was almost funny.

Almost.

Naoya looked up at him, prominent bags under his eyes. "Observant as always," he said, voice hoarse.

"Maybe you should take a break," Kazuya said, still standing in the doorway. "This can't be healthy."

"I'm touched by your concern, but--" he was interrupted by a coughing fit. "This is nothing. Don't worry too much, I took some medicine earlier."

Kazuya walked over and placed a hand to his forehead--though, really, he didn't need to. His fever was apparent just from looking at him. Naoya's expression didn't change as he pulled it away. "Naoya, you need to lie down," he said. "Your programming thing can wait until tomorrow. You don't need to push yourself this hard."

Naoya held his gaze for a moment, before he turned back to his computer and went back to typing. "Once I finish this."

His weary tone of voice wasn't very convincing. Kazuya frowned. It seemed like Naoya was going to be stubborn about this, so he would too. "I'm not going away until you're in bed and asleep."

Naoya stopped typing for a moment, then chuckled, and resumed. "That's charitable of you, but I told you already. It'd take far more than a flu to have me bedridden. Don't you have a test of your own to study for?"

"Have you looked in a mirror?" he said, and started tugging at Naoya's shoulder. "Come on, you need to get to bed. If I leave you alone like this I'm worried you'll keel over and die or something."

Something about that seemed to strike Naoya, and he paused again, then started laughing, hoarsely, and it wasn’t long before he succumbed to another coughing fit. "You're right, it _would_ be inconvenient if I died right here and now, wouldn't it?"

Kazuya eyed him. "A bit more than inconvenient."

"Perhaps," he said, and struggled to get to his feet. "If I end up not being able to finish this project on time, you're taking responsibility."

Kazuya offered him a hand, careful not to make _too_ much physical contact in fear of contracting whatever bug he had. Naoya stood unsteadily, Kazuya supporting half his weight and slowly leading him to his bedroom, where he held a hand to his back to keep him from falling over as he lowered himself onto the futon. Naoya collapsed into the blankets almost immediately, and if not for his heavy, congested breathing it would seem like he fell asleep just as quickly, body completely still.

Kazuya looked at him sadly. He didn't really know how to take care of a sick person--well, he could venture a guess, but somehow he doubted Naoya would be particularly amused if he tried to spoonfeed him chicken soup--and knowing Naoya, if he asked what he needed he'd just try to handle it himself. It wasn't that he had a problem with asking for assistance where it was needed. In fact, he often derided such thinking as irrational; people used other people since the dawn of time, so there was no shame in it. It was _relying_ on others he seemed to have an issue with, perfectly content to divide labor or ask Kazuya to fetch him something if he felt it would be inconvenient to do so himself but never because there was any doubt he _could_ do so himself. It was a strange paradox, and Kazuya still wasn't sure what he was trying to prove--or to whom.

"Is there anything I can get you?" he asked.

Naoya responded without opening his eyes, or even moving at all apart from his lips. "No need."

As expected. Kazuya bit his lip, and left the room, then after a moment’s reconsideration rerouted to the kitchen. When he returned he had a glass of water in hand, which he set down gently next to the head of the futon. Naoya cracked an eye open as he did so, but said nothing, and closed it a moment later. Kazuya knew better by now than to expect a "thank you." Without another word, he turned to leave.

"Tell me one thing," came Naoya's voice after him, hoarse and strained. “Why are you so concerned?”

Kazuya stopped in the doorway. He turned, and met Naoya’s gaze, glassy-eyed and exhausted, and... vulnerable? His chest tightened painfully.

“...Someone has to be," he said quietly, and closed the door behind him.

He sat back down in front of his textbooks and worksheets while Naoya rested, but his mind was elsewhere. Everyone always seemed to expect so much from his cousin, that his genius was a precious gift that couldn't be wasted--attending university hadn’t even been his own decision, as he’d been making enough money from freelance jobs to support himself even before then. Naoya, ever rigid and unbreakable, didn't seem to mind too much, and certainly didn't seem to have any sort of complex about meeting everyone's expectations where he would be wholly justified in having one. The way he always acted completely independent didn't help, either.

But he was still _human_. Nobody remembered this; not even Naoya himself, it felt at times.

Maybe he really was alright on his own, but Kazuya doubted it was to the extent he claimed. He tried to focus on studying, but it was an uphill battle.

\---

Later that night, Kazuya snuck back into Naoya's room to make sure he hadn't actually died. It was hard to tell in the dim lighting, but the labored rise and fall of the blankets reassured Kazuya that he was just fine. He breathed a sigh of relief, but took care not to wake him.

Even in sleep, Naoya looked agitated, distressed, even pained. He'd always been like that, actually.

Sometimes, if it seemed like he was having a particularly bad dream, Kazuya would wake him. He considered it now, but right now Naoya needed rest. So instead he sat by his bedside, and watched the rise and fall of his breathing, the occasional twitch of his lip he knew him well enough to know meant he was _very_ uncomfortable. He couldn't look away. Was this a reflection of whatever actually went on in Naoya's mind, beneath that unbreakable exterior?

It was strange, having lived with someone since he could barely walk and knowing so much about how they ticked, but not what _made_ them tick. After all this time he only had a vague idea of what Naoya actually wanted from life, or what it was that was haunting him so. He knew by now how Naoya would respond if asked, and that was by pushing him away. So he watched him, and tried to figure out what he could from the subtlest of clues. But it wasn't enough.

It was never enough.

After a few minutes he stood up, taking care not to wake his cousin as he left the room--he had no idea how he would justify why he was still there, at least without making an ass of himself. As always, he walked away feeling strangely sad. Sad because he didn't know what was causing Naoya such pain, and because whatever it was he wanted to help him but didn't know how. He had spent so much time figuring out how to put together the puzzle, piece by piece, yet still lacked a complete picture. There was still something missing.

But when they made eye contact earlier, Kazuya caught a glimpse of something, far-off and untouchable behind layers of ice, that pleaded him to find the answer.

\---

Naoya moved out a month later, leaving the puzzle far from complete.


End file.
